Curious
by wedryfullofit
Summary: He annoys her, his reckless abandon and joking goes against every facet of her straight-laced personality. So why, she wonders, does the chaos that follows him leave her so breathless? An experimental Fremione fic.


Mr. Granger had risen early that morning under strict orders from his wife. Still in his slippers and before his morning tea, he was in the breakfast nook putting finishing touches on the modest amount of brightly wrapped gifts while his wife took to frosting a plain but pretty yellow cake. When she had smoothed out the frosting, she began to pipe small, simple flowers following clear directions from a cookbook next to her. The final touch were the candles, exactly of them, each spaced equally and neatly apart. Mr. Granger tied the last ribbon, and let out a long yawn, causing his wife to yawn from across the room. Soon, they were both done with their tasks, and immediately put the kettle on.

When the tea had finished, they hear their daughter stir from upstairs. Excitedly, she ran down, trying to contain herself as she entered the kitchen, and was greeted with a heartfelt "Happy Birthday, Hermione!" Her mother stood straight and tall in her robe, not letting the early morning disrupt her poise. She had her thick, curly brown hair, which Hermione had inherited, put up in a loose bun that bobbed as she took sips of her tea. With an arm around her waist was Mr. Granger, who was a meek but kind looking man, with sensible, wireframe glasses. Hermione rushed to hug them both, knowing the effort they had gone put in.

"Can I open them?" She asked, eyeing the presents on the table carefully. Her mother laughed, but shook her head.

"Not until we've done the formalities." With that, she set her tea down and lit the candles on the small cake, then turned around for Hermione to make her wish and blow them out.

What to wish for. The newly ten year old girl thought about what she wanted most. For a few moments, she squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them as she blew out the candles in one go. "Now let me get this cut," Her mother said, placing the cake back on the table. "Why don't you go open some presents?" She smiled down at her daughter, who was at the table in a flash and being followed by a father who had a sudden spring in his step.

A pair of knit gloves and a scarf from her Aunt Tilda and Uncle Wallace, even though it was the middle of September. From her grandparents, a notebook, several hair ribbons and sparkly clips, a thick pair of wool socks, and a shirt that looked several sizes too small. Hermione wouldn't admit it, but there were a few presents that disappointed. The real beauties were both from her parents, which included a small chemistry set, two long lasting book lights, and a hodgepodge of books.

"It's all wonderful." She said, only half lying. "Thank you!" Mrs. Granger brought the cake over at that point, deciding that cake for breakfast was acceptable on birthdays. When they finished, she told Hermione to be ready by noon, because they'd be going out to see a film. Hermione returned to her room with her things, and Mrs. Granger told her husband that she'd clean up if he got the paper. So off he went, mug in hand. Imagine his surprise as he reached the entryway of his house, and saw a small envelope lying on the floor, hours before the post would arrive.

It was addressed to Hermione, but looked nothing like a birthday card their family would send. He flipped it around, and furrowed his brow in confusion. Above a peculiar wax seal was an ornate logo with the words, "Hogwarts". He opened the letter and read through it, but only made it halfway through before his heart sunk. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", a cruel joke from her schoolmates. Protectively, he began to fume. These sorts of things had happened before, but this was crossing the line. Calling Hermione a witch, sending a letter, on her birthday no less, telling her to pack up and leave. Without a second thought, Mr. Granger crumpled the letter and stuffed it into his trouser pocket, swearing to to make sure his little girl never saw the product of mean children.

It was a curious thing, muggle architecture. Straight lines reached up and out, occupying as little space as possible with as much exaggeration as could be allowed. Streamlined, synergetic, sleek, all empty words used to describe the characteristics of modern muggle houses. They were tall and unimposing, trying to mask any sort of uniqueness; a type of makeshift magic, and quite a terrible habit. It was the type of thing that would have made Minerva purse her lips, but given her current form, she could not. She sat with four paws on the ground, waiting outside the plain house she had been in earlier.

"Normally," She had started as she sat down with the timid family. "these letters would be delivered using the normal post. This case, however, is one that needs a more direct explanation." From her sleeve she pulled out a yellowed envelope, sealed quite traditionally with a wax stamp, and handed it to the mousy girl sitting across from her. Confused, the girl's mother spoke up.

"What is this about?" The arm around her daughter tightened protectively, but her father remained silent. Minerva pursed her lips then, seeing now why there had been no response from the family. There was a pause as she waited for him to say something, but after looking at him staring holes into his living room carpet, she continued.

"Schooling, Mrs. Granger, though it is a bit more complicated than that-" She was interrupted by the little girl's gasp. Looking up from the letter, she smiled, but was suddenly overwhelm with apprehension. She was a smart girl indeed. "The school I represent has taken notice of your daughter's exceptional marks and talents, and I have no doubt other schools have not also sent you letters. These schools promise to meet a variety of her needs, correct? They claim to be the best for her, the only place where she can grow without being stifled?" Mrs. Granger gave a slight nod, Mr. Granger remained statuesque, and Hermione listened carefully. "These are lies, for one reason: Hogwarts is the only school that will cater to and cultivate her magical abilities."

That had been almost an hour ago. Minerva flicked her tail and let out a deep sigh. She had given explanations to the parents about things that had been previously unexplainable, things about Hermione that had no rhyme or reason. How the girl who had picked on her weeks ago had suddenly grown exceptionally ill after teasing Hermione, or how she had woken up one day and her hair was just flat and straight. Mr. Granger had heard enough, yelling that it was a sick joke coming all the way out to their house, but was swiftly wordless when Minerva assumed her cat form on their living room couch. The small cat then offered to wait outside while the family discussed Hermione's future, and was let out by the excited little girl.

It was another twenty minutes before the door opened, revealing Hermione Granger, smiling wide, and Minerva was admittedly relieved. Muggles were not always this quick to come around. She resumed her human form, and pursed her lips as Hermione began an onslaught of questions, and the two returned to the living room, closing the door behind them. Yes, more than the straight and towering lines of muggle houses, what Minerva McGonagall hated more than anything was trying to stifle uniqueness.

Outside of King's Cross, her parents helped her unload her things. They had been given clear instructions to not follow her into the station, or attempt to cross the barrier, so it was at the entrance they said their goodbyes. "Write me, when you get the chance." Hermione's teary-eyed mother sniffed and hugged her baby girl close. As soon as her mother let go, her father took her place.

"You be good." He said. He almost laughed, knowing his daughter was good, but he had needed to think of something to clear the lump in his throat. "Be safe." He added, and ruffled her hair. Hermione hugged them back, and gave a reassuring smile. She felt guilty for not being more sad, but in truth it was excitement that overwhelmed her. Grabbing hold of her cart, she started moving towards the platform, and gave her parents one last look. They looked sad, and scared, but they held it together and watched her disappear through the doors, and even though they knew it wouldn't happen, they lingered in the carpark, just in case Hermione needed them.

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, when explained, had seemed simple enough. Run through the gate, and on the other side you will be told what to do. Easy. Execution, Hermione was finding, proved more difficult. Waves of people came crashing around her, paying no attention to the fact that they were getting in the way. Frantically, she pushed through the crowds, earning glares from people whose toes she ran over, and she'd yell that she was sorry but secretly she thought they deserved it. She was just about ready to yell in frustration when a flurry of red flashed by her. Two, three, four boys, no four redheaded boys and a black haired boy, and a girl? They moved too quick to know for sure, but Hermione didn't hesitate to follow them.

Finally they stopped in front of a large column, and prepared for… what? There was nothing, just them standing in front of a large column in King's Cross. She was beginning to think that her instincts were wrong until one of the older looking boys, quite scrawny and prudish looking, took a deep breath and ran straight through the column, disappearing right in front of her eyes. No one so much as looked at him as he ran through. Then, two twins gave their mother a bit of grief, and lastly the two boys who looked to be about her age made it through to the other side. When they had all gone through, Hermione looked at the wall with a fierce determination and gripped tightly onto her cart. With a running start, she burst towards the column and in an instant was on the other side. Around her, things had changed drastically. There were people everywhere, all chaotically making it to the train. Anyone who looked older than her were running to greet each other happily, ecstatic about being back from the long summer. The younger ones were more timid, relying on their parents to rush them onto the train and unload all the information they had. "But what if I don't get into Ravenclaw?" A small girl moaned up at her mother, nervously. Her mother reassured her that she needn't worry, and hugged her before putting her on the train.

A small man with a curt face was suddenly standing in front of Hermione. Although he was only slightly taller than her, he looked at her like he towered stories above her. "Name?" He sneered. "And please only your last name, do not waste my time by being casual." He held a large piece of parchment and a quill up to his flared nose.

"Granger." She gulped, maintaining a firm grip on her belongings.

"Smashing." The man nodded and rolled his eyes. "Get onto the train with a quick step." He ordered, and instantly honed in on another poor boy. The kid looked like he was ready to throw up, and gingerly held a bored toad as he stammered a reply to the sneering man's questions. She vaguely heard a "L-Longbottom-" before moving towards the train. It wasn't until she was in line to enter the train that she saw him again, looking sicker than before. Anxiety welled up inside her as she thought about talking to the him, but pushed past it when she considered her clean slate.

"He was quite rude." He didn't notice she had said anything for a long pause, and probably wouldn't have had she not been raising an eyebrow at him.

"W-what?" He stammered, pulling the toad closer to him.

"That man… with the paper?" His face loosened and a bit of color returned, he seemed relieved.

"Yeah…" Sheepishly, he inhaled sharply like he was about to jump in a pool and all at once said, "Hellomyname'sNeville," he was startled by the volume of his voice. Quietly, he added, "What's yours?"

Hermione's smile fell somewhere between sympathetic and warm. She knew how he felt. It didn't take someone as clever as her to see his anxiousness. "Hermione." It was her turn to step on the train, Neville right behind her.

"Do… compartment… together…?" He mumbled at her. She said yes, and more color returned to her face.

Quite miraculously, the two found an empty compartment despite the crowds of people. They passed by several that looked uncomfortably crowded as people tried to fit as many friends in one compartment as they could. They sat across from each other after putting away their smaller items, Neville still holding his toad, looking remarkably indifferent to the world around him. He never once tried to jump or wriggle in Neville's hands. Hermione was just thinking that the toad could easily pass for dead when their compartment door slid open.

"Ickle firsties!" One redhead said, grinning from ear to ear. Another one, identical to the first, popped into the doorframe

"You're in for a treat." The second one explained.

"We have the distinct displeasure of,"

"Having been put in charge of one 'Vile Mushbottom'," Hermione fumed, seeing the blush creep over Neville's face. Was everyone this rude? Indignantly, she furrowed her brow at the twins and crossed her arms.

"Neville Longbottom." She enunciated every syllable, and instead of maroon blush, all color had left Neville's face again.

"Isn't that what we said?" They said, completely in sync and grinning ear to ear, and entered the compartment. "Pull it together, Neville, we're only joking." The one next to Hermione had spoken up.

"Yeah lighten up. Your Gran said she'd turn us into friends for Trevor if we let anything happen to you." The other one reassured, patting the toad on the head, who sleepily croaked.

Neville sputtered out a half formed sentence, managing only to say, "You're the Weasle-" before being interrupted.

"Bloody obvious, innit?" There was a glint in his eye that made Hermione fume even more. "I'm Fred and this," He motioned towards his brother who finished.

"George." A wide grin sat on his face.

Fred turned towards Hermione, as if he had just noticed her. "And you?"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger." She returned, hotly, and stood up. "I'm going to change into my robes." With a small nod towards Neville, she was up and reaching for her robes the sat in a small cubby above them. To her embarrassment, the robes proved to be too high, having had to step where Fred now sat in order to place them earlier. He laughed and stood up.

"Allow me, miss." Sarcastically, he gave a deep bow, but as he straightened up was a foot higher than the small Hermione, who blushed and let out sharp sigh. As soon as he had retrieved them, she head out into the aisle, not exactly sure where to go. Figuring she'd figure it out, she headed towards the back of the train.

On her way to the loo, she noticed a compartment filled with particularly mean looking people. In it was a pale, white haired boy sat next to a pug-faced girl and across from them sat two large, dumb looking boys. Apparently, Hermione lingered far too long, and the pug faced girl was on her in an instant. "Sorry, pony, no carrots here." A look of evil satisfaction sat on the girls face, and the rest of the compartment guffawed. Hermione ran her tongue over her teeth, cursing her parents for never getting her braces, and raced off. Behind her she could hear the guffawing continue, and she ran into the restroom, eyes stinging.

"They're no different!" She said to herself. The twins, that girl and her friends, even the man back at the station. It was then that the train began to pull out from the station, and as Hermione willed herself to stop crying, she realized that this was the first time she had ever been to London.

Finally she returned to her compartment with Neville and the others, and was now joined by another person, who would later introduce himself as Lee, sitting next to Fred directly next to the window. He was a smiling brown skinned boy with braids, laughing with the twins and even earning a small chuckle from Neville. It grew quiet as she opened the door, and she felt a pang of embarrassment as she quietly took her seat near the door, squeezing in between the wall and Fred. Seeing her swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, the older boys wisely decided not to hassle her, and Neville felt a pit in his stomach.

Slowly, Hermione began to calm down, and even Neville seemed to have eased. What the twins lacked in tact they made up for in conversation. They talked about Hogwarts and a game called quidditch, the latter being something she'd briefly read about in a book Professor McGonagall had specifically recommended to her. Both of them had this genuine way of making everything sound interesting, but quidditch was interesting in itself.

"Isn't it dangerous?" She didn't even realize she had spoken. Wide eyed, she looked up from her sneakers and around the compartment, at the equally surprised group.

"I suppose it is." Lee said. It had been the first time she said anything in, what, an hour?

"Of course it is!" George agreed, loudly.

"Would it be any fun if it weren't?" Fred asked, winking down at the small girl next to him. "And speaking of dangerous, we were beginning to think your tongue would fall off if you spoke again." He joking, trying to be as inoffensive as he could, much in the same way he'd talk to his baby sister.

Hermione could feel the hotness of blood rushing to her ears and lifted her head up. "Well it won't." She said, matter of factly. "I was beginning to think your tongue would fall off if you stopped talking." The words hung in the air, but before Hermione could regret it George was slapping his knee and laughing.

"Looks like our dear Freddie got bested, eh Lee?"

"Yes, George, I was thinking the same thing." Lee returned, elbowing Fred in the ribs. To Hermione's relief, Fred laughed along, eyebrows high in surprise. All at once, the tension lifted.

"Your name was Hermione Granger, you said?" Fred asked, offering Hermione one of the candies he had bought from the treat trolley. "How'd you end up in the same place is Neville and survive? I reckoned his bad luck would have gotten you in some mess." Hermione took the candy, but gauged Neville carefully, who blushed but opened up into a grin.

"If you can count his bad luck as running into that rude station guard, then I suppose it has rubbed off."

"You mean Barnabis, that git. He's been bitter ever since Gringott's fired his arse after discovering he wasn't actually a goblin." Fred said, and every erupted in laughter yet again, save for Hermione herself. Fred, noticing her puzzled look, quickly put the pieces together. "Are you a muggle-born?" He asked, bluntly.

"A… pardon me?"

"Merlin's Beard you are."

"I am what?" Annoyed, she crossed her arms and looked at Neville for a clarification, but it was George who spoke up.

"Means you're the only wizard in your family."

"You're not?" The three boys snickered. Was it just her who had come from a normal family?

"Not a chance." George said. "I don't know anyone in our family who isn't."

Hermione looked back at Neville, who shook his head. "Me parents and me Gran, at least." He admitted, meekly.

Hermione blushed, and felt hot. She was a freak here too. So far she was regretting coming to Hogwarts, and briefly wondered if she'd be allowed to go home and start her life normally. The thoughts vanished, though, as Fred casually put his arm around her. "You're not the only one." He said, perceptive of what she was feeling. "But it does make you special." The rest of them nodded in agreement. "I guess Neville hasn't rubbed off on you too much because you know," He smirked. "George, Lee, and I, ain't so ordinary ourselves, so it's a pretty good thing you and Neville met us." Feeling reassured, Hermione blushed again.

The conversation got along from there, and Fred removed his arm from her to make a large gesture that accompanied his story. They talked more about quidditch, and both Fred and George said they hoped to be beaters again this year. Lee said that he had convinced Professor McGonagall to let him be the announcer, and demonstrated his skills.

"The bludger's going for Angelina - heading straight for her and - OUT OF NOWHERE Fred Weasley - he beats it to George and - a Sniveling Slytherin has seen the snitch- !"

"Speaking of which, Smellville," Fred says, ignoring or not noticing Hermione's glare, "Which house do you think you'll be in?"

Neville's face fell with nervousness. "Gran says I better be in Gryffindor." The older boys all nodded, approvingly. "You better listen to your Gran, then." Fred said, before turning to Hermione. "What about you?"

"Ravenclaw." She answered instantly. "When I read 'Hogwarts: A History', it said that they're the smartest house. Quite obvious, really."

"Do yourself a favor," Fred started, followed by his twin.

"Land yourself in Gryffindor." It was a matter of fact statement. Hermione nodded, and that conversation ended there. She relaxed against the seat and Fred's arm, content to settle in for the rest of the journey. The contentedness didn't last long, however, and ended with a frantic shout from Neville.

"Trevor! He's gone!"

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_**Please Read!**_

**A/N:** For now, I'm calling this experimental. I wanted to do Fremione at Hogwarts but haven't decided if I should explain away the things that happen in the books or try and integrate them. One thing that should be noted is that yes, she and all the other characters will be twelve years old in their first year. I decided that since it is a Fremione fic, I wanted Hermione to be a bit older before Fred's fifth year. This does mean that everyone will be a bit older than they are canonically.

Please leave a review letting me know what you think. Suggestions for what to do are highly welcomed and kind of needed, and I'd love hearing from you. Happy reading!


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